All Things Fair And Foul
by Paulerro
Summary: It was a tear, a rip in space and time, glowing from within with purple light. It crackled malevolently at me. So I jumped in. On the one hand, I'm now stuck in the magical world. On the other...I'm now stuck in the magical world. This is very good...and very bad. Girl-Who-Lived, first person, not a self insert.


**Hi everyone! I'm Paulerro, and this is my first foray into fanfiction. I understand it's customary to put a disclaimer at the start of every chapter, so...in some alternate universe I might own Harry Potter, but not in this one. Any characters in this work of fiction are purely fictional and any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.**

**Uhm...enjoy!**

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It was an unpleasant experience, weird-time-space-hole-portal travel was, to say the least. Blinding light, impenetrable darkness, deafening sound, absolute silence, complete void, and stifling presence. I felt I was being torn apart from every point and crushed into a singularity all at the same time. It seemed to stretch on for an infinity, but when it ended it felt like it had been instantaneous.

I was simply still, wherever it was I'd landed, trying to recover, for what felt like ages. I felt nothing, smelt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing, tasted nothing. All was nothing.

Eventually, though, the world began to come back into focus, slowly, bit by bit, almost like molasses dripping off a spoon. First to return was my sense of position – I was lying down, curled on my right side, with my face turned down. It wasn't very comfortable.

Slowly my sense of touch returned afterward, and I realised I was lying on dampish grass. It was a little cold, and the air too was slightly chilly. The ground was softish, not very hard earth, which was a mercy to me because my face was pressed into it.

Smell came creeping back next, filling my nostrils with the smell of wet earth and fresh grass and not much else. Better than nothing, though.

Then sight returned, not that I could see much. I could tell it was daytime, but other than the fact that the grass was green, I couldn't make out much else.

Birdsong filled my ears after a minute or so, not too far away, and soon after that I managed to finally move. Not much, admittedly, just turning my head to the side, but still. From my new position I was able to see that I was lying either in a clearing in some woods, or just outside them. All was green, and alive, and vibrant; here and there I could see flowers in different colours, all very beautiful and peaceful. For a few minutes longer I just lay there, getting my strength back, before trying to sit up. That was not an easy task, and I fell back several times before finally levering myself up. Every muscle in my body was screaming at me afterwards, and I felt the beginnings of a blinding headache coming on.

"Oh god," I groaned, letting my head flop forwards onto my chest. Why, I berated myself, had I done that? Okay, so I had nothing really to lose – family all dead, friends all dead, the world gone to hell and zombies trying to eat me every minute of every day – but the way I felt now, staying and getting killed or eaten almost seemed the better option. Slowly though the headache and pains receded and I began to feel a bit better. I glanced instinctively at my watch – a simple analog one, that had cost less than ten quid – but it had stopped. I snorted and pulled it off my wrist, tossing it aside. To be honest, I hadn't expected it to work, but then again the fact that it was there was a good thing. Come to think of it…I glanced down at myself, realising that I was still fully clothed and in fact even had my pistol strapped to my leg and my backpack on my back. Now that was a good thing. I emptied my pockets and backpack out, which took a while considering how many I had, and how much I had in my bag. Just about everything I had had on me was still there – pistol ammunition, about 100 .45 rounds in 12-round clips; second pistol; a revolver, a huge Raging Judge; thirty-five rounds for the Judge, large-grain .356 shells; an all-purpose medical kit, with everything I might need if I was wounded, so needles, surgical thread, antiseptics, painkillers, bandages, etcetera; torch; spare batteries; about fifty thousand pounds in notes, all old, dirty, and creased, which I'd scrounged from wherever I could before jumping into the portal; seven assorted tins of food; five bottles of water; a simple water distiller; heavy-duty pocket knife; large military knife in a sheath at my hip; second military knife strapped to my right shin; two boxes of matches; three lighters, very precious things; a flare; ID card for the quarantine zones; three battered and very well-read books – A Game of Thrones, Long Walk To Freedom, and War and Peace; and a spare shirt.

I debated about getting rid of the money and ID, but in the end decided to keep everything, just in case they could be useful. Everything except the spare shirt went back into my pockets and bag, including my knives and the pistol strapped to my leg, though I kept the last loaded and easily accessible. Before I put the backpack back on, I changed shirts and tossed the older one aside. With any luck I could find a river or something where I could wash – I stank of sweat and filth. It was something one got used to, in a zombie apocalypse, but here I noticed it again.

With an effort I stood up, staggering a little as a momentary feeling of nausea washed over me. Having shaken it off, I glanced round and wondered which way to go. My first impression of my surroundings was right; I was in a clearing in a forest. From the trees and undergrowth, I decided I must be somewhere in Europe, probably northern Europe – if it existed. It looked like late springtime or early summer in the north of the UK, to be honest. A few moments of examining the trees told me which way north was and, for lack of any reason to go elsewhere, that was the way I decided to head. As I went I thanked my lucky stars there did not appear to be any trace of a counterpart to the portal here. With any luck there would be no zombies following me; assuming they could get to the portal after I'd placed the accumulated results of five months' worth of trading and scrounging for explosives at the base of the column. Even if the explosives hadn't gone off, which was unlikely, the portal was twenty metres off the ground and three feet away from Nelson's Column, and I'd knocked away the ladder to the platform I'd built to get to it.

A few minutes later, the forest ended quite abruptly to reveal a large lake about a hundred metres away, and across the lake a cliff, upon which was perched a very beautiful castle. I blinked in surprise – was I in the past? I definitely hoped I wasn't in A Song of Ice and Fire – there was only so far guns could take me in that world. For a moment I hesitated, standing just inside the forest and staring across the lake. As I stood there I saw a figure approaching around the lake, and I quickly slipped further back into the forest to hide, keeping an eye on whoever it was. As the figure drew nearer, I saw it was a girl, or more accurately a young woman, with vivid russet-coloured hair and long, flowing black robes. She didn't appear to have seen me, carrying on round the lake to an area about fifty metres to my left where the forest reached the lake. From what I could make out, she was quite agitated and seemed in a hurry, her strides long and fast but at the same time a little stumbling. I recognised it; she was upset, very much so, and trying hard not to cry, or scream. Quite a few people – myself included – had acted in similar fashion after a particularly painful event, like losing a loved one. As I watched she sank down beside a tree and buried her head in her hands. I deliberated for a moment; I was taking a risk, but there could be no real harm in approaching her. If the worst came to the worst and she attacked me, well…I felt the heft of my pistol in my pocket. I straightened up and stepped forward, emerging from the forest and heading towards the girl. She didn't appear to notice me as I drew near, so when I was about twenty feet away I raised my hand.

"Hi!" I called.

She started visibly and scrambled to her feet, dragging the back of a sleeve across her face while her other hand plunged into her robes, coming out with a long stick in her grasp. She pointed the stick at me as she lowered her hand, staring at me with confused and suspicious eyes of a brilliant green.

"Wh-who are you?" she asked sharply, her voice slightly hoarse and trembling a little.

I took a deep breath. To be honest, I was more than a little shocked, and rather suspicious that I knew where I was. After all, the stick – wand, really – was a dead giveaway, as was the badge on her robes that depicted a golden lion on a red background.

"My name's Edward Lake," I said, raising my hands, palms outwards, in the universal signal for 'look, I'm unarmed'. "Please don't curse me."

She looked me up and down, her wand still trained on me. I repaid the favour, noting that she was quite shapely under her robes, if perhaps just a little young – I estimated about sixteen or thereabouts. I myself was eighteen going on nineteen, though I probably looked far older. Living in a zombie apocalypse will do that to you.

"I've never seen you around here before," she said slowly. "Pull up your left sleeve, to your elbow."

"Sure," I replied, doing do immediately but slowly, making sure I made no sudden moves. Yeah, I definitely knew where I was. The only thing that confused me was, how the heck was I able to see the castle? I thought it had wards round it to protect it and prevent non-magicals from seeing it.

"Satisfied?" I asked, displaying my bare inner arm to her.

She nodded, the suspicion in her eyes fading slightly, though her wand remained firmly aimed at my torso.

"So," I said, "you know my name, so…can I have yours?"

She brushed a hand across her forehead, pushing her hair out of her eyes. The action exposed a thin red scar on her brow, above her right eye, in the shape of a lightning bolt. I gasped inwardly – I'd long ago learnt to keep my emotions inside and to show the world a poker face.

"Rose," she said. "Rose Potter." Her eyes narrowed. "So…how do you not recognise the Girl-Who-Lived, after all the smear campaigns in the Daily Prophet?"

I gave a little chuckle. "Well…I'm not really from around here. At all. In fact…" I bit my lip. If this was the magical world, and I could somehow see it – which strongly suggested that for whatever reason, I had magic – then no way in hell was I turning away. Actually, it could have been anywhere and I wouldn't have turned away. I brought my thoughts back to the matter at hand, wondering whether or not I should come clean as to where and when I came from. The answer was a no-brainer.

"I can't say here," I added, putting on an earnest look. "But…I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore, actually. Urgently."

"Why?" Rose challenged. "Is it to do with Voldemort? Because if it is, I need to know as well." She looked ready to rant at me, and I was pretty sure I knew why. If this world was anything like the books, even if it was Rose and not Harry Potter, then from her age and the time of year I'd guess she'd just lost Sirius in the Department of Mysteries, and was sick of Dumbledore treating her like a mushroom.

I glanced from side to side. "Can you cast a privacy charm?" I asked, and to my slight surprise she immediately did. "Right…" I sat down slowly, gesturing to the ground as well. She sat too, her wand still trained on me. "Okay. First off, I swear to you, this is the truth. If I had Veritaserum to hand, I'd take it. As it is, until Dumbledore can verify this, you'll just have to believe me." I kept my eyes fixed on hers as I spoke, and with an internal sigh of relief I saw her nod once. "Now…" I took a deep breath, "I'm not from this world." I paused, to let the words sink in. She stared at me for a moment, then nodded.

"Okay," she said. "And?"

I blinked in surprise. "…that's it?" I asked, bemused. "Just going to take it?"

Rose shrugged. "With magic I'll believe anything."

"Fair point," I agreed. "Anyway…in my world, the year is 2017, and the world has been overrun by zombies since 2014."

"Zombies?" Rose asked, surprise evident on her face. "You mean like undead, that bite you and want to eat your brains?"

I made a face. "Kinda. Long story short, I found something really weird next to Nelson's Column in London, like a…a rip or something in reality. Since, well…since I had no-one to miss, and nothing to look forward to, I decided I'd see what it did. So…"

"So you jumped in," Rose finished for me.

"Yeah," I said. "I jumped in, and wound up…" I waved a hand to the south, "over there somewhere. I picked myself up, decided to wander north, and here I am. And I'm a bit confused, because…well, you see…" I hesitated again, then went on, "in my world, there's this series of novels, you see, about the magical world, about Hogwarts, and Dumbledore, and Voldemort…and the main character is the child who defeated Voldemort as a baby, who is at Hogwarts…"

Rose leapt to her feet, her wand almost in my face. "What?" she almost screamed. "What?! You…you know…you've been reading about…about me?!"

"Calm down, please," I said, raising my hands placatingly. "They're not really accurate or anything, I mean they say it was a Boy-Who-Lived, called Harry Potter, an–holy shit!" I yelped the last two words as I threw myself backwards just in time to avoid a yellowish curse that she apparently cast accidentally, because she immediately raised her wand and looked aghast at herself.

"I'm — I'm sorry," she said, dropping to her knees and looking anxiously at me. "I didn't mean to…are you okay?"

"Just a little shocked, but yeah," I said, trying not to breathe too fast. "The main thing is, according to the books one can only see Hogwarts if they've got magic in them," I added, trying to put the issue of knowing about her beside for now, "and, well, so far as I knew I don't have magic."

"But you can see Hogwarts," Rose said, thankfully accepting the tabling of the subject. "So…you may have magic after all."

"That about sums it up," I said. "That's why I want to see Dumbledore, to see what he can do about that – because if this is anything like the books, Voldemort is back now and I'm damned if I'm just going to sit by. I've essentially been fighting all my life – and I wouldn't know how to just live normally anyway."

She nodded slowly, not taking her eyes off mine. "Right," she said. "I'll take you to Dumbledore. But first…" she grabbed my shirt, jabbing her wand into my neck. "I want you to tell me everything you know about me. Everything."

Three hours later, I was following Rose towards the castle as the sun set, feeling a little drained. We'd managed to come to an agreement; I told her everything I knew about her – or rather, Harry – up to the end of Harry's fifth year. She, as long as she wanted to, would tell me whether or not it was true or not. Most was. The exceptions were that she'd broken with Ron in her fourth year, and though they were civil to each other and he was a little more understanding, they weren't best friends; Neville was closer than he was in the books; and her detentions with Umbridge had been even more vicious, with the functioning of her hand being slightly impaired as a result of the torture. I also promised that I would tell her – and Dumbledore, since I didn't want to tell it more than once – what I knew about Voldemort and the future from the books. That done, I'd suggested she talk to me, explaining that I knew firsthand what it was like to lose someone very dear to you, and that the best way to get past it was to talk about it. It had taken a bit of persuading, but she'd finally agreed and it had been like opening the floodgates of the Three Gorges Dam. She'd cried several times, and towards the end had – hesitantly at first – hugged me, muttering she needed someone to hold her. I hadn't objected, and we'd sat for about fifteen minutes with me just holding her in my arms and murmuring soothing nothings to her until she'd calmed down a bit.

Now we were heading to see Dumbledore, and I was trying not to feel nervous about it. At least I didn't stink or look utterly filthy any more; Rose had, quite agreeably, cast a few Scourgify charms on me, as well as air-freshening charms, after trying to hug me the first time.

"Damn," Rose said, coming to a halt.

"What's the matter?" I asked, glancing at her.

She gave me a sheepish look. "It's dinner time. Dumbledore will be in the Great Hall."

I nodded understandingly. "I see. Well…" I glanced around, "I can wait here, or wherever. You go along to dinner, and…yeah." I smiled at her. "I'll be fine. And I can tell you're hungry."

Rose bit her lower lip hesitantly. "Are…are you sure? I could ask a house-elf to bring you some food, if you like…are you really okay with staying out here?"

I grinned. "Of course I'm sure. Listen, I don't suggest something unless I'm perfectly happy doing it. And I'm not really hungry, although if I was I have food in my backpack. I'm fine, trust me."

She stood there irresolutely, still worrying her lip and looking at me a little…sadly, I thought, but it was hard to tell in the fading light. With a little sigh, I reached out and took her by the shoulders, turning her towards the castle and pushing her gently but firmly in its direction.

"Go on," I said. "Go eat. You need your food."

"Alright," she said, twisting out of my grip. She hesitated a moment, looking at me over her shoulder, then darted closer and gave me a sudden hug. "Thanks," she whispered. "For telling me the truth…and for listening to me." Then she let go and walked quickly away up the path towards the castle.

I watched her go with a small smile. It had been a long time since I'd spent so long with someone, listening to their troubles. Even though it was essentially listening to a fifteen-going-sixteen girl talk about her problems and her fears and her sorrows, it was…oddly enjoyable. In a not-at-all morbid way. I didn't have to worry about zombies, about keeping an ear and an eye constantly out for the things, about any of that. It was nice.

A flat-sided rock by the lake made for a comfortable place to sit and lean back on, and I stared out towards the sunset across the scarlet water.

I knew that I had to find a way to convince Dumbledore that I was suited to help against Voldemort, and more to the point, that I was suited to be close to Rose. Yes, I wanted to be closer to her.

Many schemes and plans floated through my mind as I sat and waited; by the time I heard Rose and another person coming down the path the sun had set completely and I knew what I was going to do.

"Edward?" I heard her calling. "Edward, where are you?"

I stood and headed for the path, pulling my backpack back on as I went. "Here," I called back.

She had her wand out, the tip lit, and I saw her smile at me as I approached. "Come on," she said. "We're to meet Dumbledore in his room." She glanced back to the second person, whose sharp features and grey hair I recognised from her description in the books. "This is Professor McGonagall, head of my house," Rose said. "Dumbledore felt it was…safest…if she came, just in case. I told him I trusted you, but…"

I interrupted her, smiling a little. "No, he's right. I could just be a damn good actor, with a damn good story. I'm not, but that's not the point." I held out my hand to McGonagall. "Hi, I'm Edward Lake. Nice to meet you."

She looked at my hand as if it was diseased, and merely nodded once, tightly. Still smiling, I withdrew my hand. "Nice to see prejudice and blind suspicion still alive and well in the 1990s, with no zombies running around anywhere," I remarked cheerfully, as the Professor turned and led us up to the castle.

Rose made a noise of agreement and seemed about to speak, when the Professor cut in.

"I don't think you understand, Mr Lake. We must be on constant watch, in case He Who Must Not Be Named has infiltrated spies into our midst."

"Of course," I rejoined. "By all means, then, treat strangers with knowledge of the future like lepers, but willingly embrace proto-Death Eaters, ultra-racists with a penchant for torture, and Marked Death Eaters into the school's student and teacher population."

She seemed about to turn on me, but instead settled for making an angry sound – oddly like a cat spitting – and kept on her way. Suited me just fine.

By the Four and the Eight-Fold-Path, Dumbledore's eyes really do glitter! It's goddamn creepy, it is.

"Ah, Mr Lake," he said, rising from behind his desk and sweeping round it with a scuffing whisper of robes on the carpet. "How pleasant to meet you."

I shook his hand, with a little awe and more trepidation. Then I steeled myself. I've faced down a hundred zombies at a time on my own, I've shot the face off the zombie that had been my grandfather, I've decapitated the one that had been my mother, I've put a bullet through my sister's head when she got bitten. I can face down a manipulative old man who's trying to organise everything for the Greater Good, and has the best intentions.

The seat I sank into in front of Dumbledore's desk was a soft, plushy armchair, and very comfortable.

"So," Dumbledore said, linking his fingers and looking at me over them. "I hear you have come from an alternate universe, where our world exists inside a novel?"

There was a snort from the black-haired, hook-nosed man in the corner, which I ignored.

"Oh yes," I replied. "And I'm more than willing to take Veritaserum to prove it…after I've told you all I know. And, by the way…" I motioned to Rose, who was manfully – or should that be girlfully? – resisting McGonagall's attempts to push her out of the study, "she stays."

"No," Snape cut in, before Dumbledore could answer. "She's just a child, and she doesn't need to know."

"Wasn't talking to you, Snape, so remember that breathing is conducive to living, talking is conducive to lack of air," I retorted, focussing on Dumbledore. "This concerns her more than anyone else in this room, because it all hinges on her. If you don't tell her all, now, then when? What are you making her, except a sacrificial lamb for the slaughter?"

Snape made a movement that looked as if he was going for his wand, but I had my pistol out of my pocket, the safety off and my finger on the trigger, before his hand even entered his robes.

"Hand goes in robes, bullet goes in head," I threatened. "I mean it. I've killed before, it doesn't bother me."

"Severus," Dumbledore said, waving a hand at him, "please. Restrain yourself. You as well, Mr Lake. We should all be friends here. And yes," he added, as I started to speak, "Miss Potter can stay as well. I fear," he went on, looking very old and tired for a second, "that I have made many mistakes along the way. I can only try to fix them now."

"That's the spirit," I said cheerfully. "But you'll forgive me if I keep this gun out; I'm not sure I trust Mr Snape fully. It's nothing personal, you understand," I added, smiling at him. He sneered back.

"Now then," I said. "Where to start…"

About two hours later, a temper tantrum from Snape which had, unbelievably, resulted in Dumbledore literally Silencing him, three outbreaks of tears from Rose, who insisted on clinging to me as she cried, an attack on Snape by a raging, sobbing Rose whom I had to physically drag back and restrain until she was just sobbing and not raging, and two shocked outbursts from everyone in the room, I finished with a rather angry administration of Veritaserum by Snape and testified that all I had said was the truth.

Dumbledore sat back, looking more than ever his age. "This…" he ran a tired hand over his eyes, "this is simply…it's…"

"A lot to take in?" I suggested helpfully.

He nodded silently. For a couple of minutes everyone was silent, then I spoke up again.

"Look," I said, "I know that you are going to need a while to think about this, to come to terms with it and come up with better plans, that don't involve sending Rose to her death…so why don't we just postpone that for a few minutes and talk about a few other, slightly less important things?" I kept an eye on Snape as I spoke, but the hook-nosed man seemed rather interested in the contents of the middle distance and didn't react at all. Dumbledore, on the other hand, blinked and took a deep breath.

"Of course," he said. He spread his hands before him. "Speak."

"Right," I said, shifting my position a bit and pushing Rose slightly to the side – after the second time she had got up from her chair, reaching through her tears to get me to hold her, she just stayed in my chair cuddled up to me. Dumbledore had obligingly expanded my chair to a two-seater sofa. Honestly, I had actually expected her to act differently, not being this willing to be physically close to me. Harry definitely wouldn't have – but then Harry was a boy and Rose is a girl. Perhaps her life experiences shaped her in different ways, made her more open to people who tell her the truth? If so, I need to change that – what if Voldemort decided to just tell her all the truth? Would she go hug him?

A slight cough from Dumbledore distracted me from my thoughts, and I realised I'd just been sitting silently there for a minute or so.

"Sorry, got lost in my thoughts for a moment," I apologised, and he murmured something along the lines of 'it happens to the best of us'.

"Anyway, the first thing I'd like to suggest is that, over this summer, Rose gets some form of training. Give her a few manuals of battle magic, or ways to help her improve her control and stamina. Since the Ministry now knows of Voldemort's return, it shouldn't be too hard getting her an exemption from the laws about underage use of magic. She needs to practise, and practise hard. She also needs to train physically." I raised a hand to forestall the protests I could see coming from McGonagall and Rose, though oddly not Dumbledore. "I don't know how magic works, the books weren't theoretical manuals or anything, but I do know that duels tend to be filled with a lot of moving. And my mind suggests, having lived through hundreds of fights – and gun fights aren't too different from magical duels, when you get down to the basics – that the person who has the best stamina and agility will have an edge. Am I right?" I asked, looking at each person in turn. Each of them nodded, and I ploughed on before anyone could speak. "Good. Now, I'm sure you're thinking of sending say an Auror – Tonks, or Moody, or someone like that – to instruct her, but I'm telling you this now: bad idea. They can't blend in with Muggles, and it will be noticed. Besides…from what I read in the books, and correct me if I'm wrong, Aurors are not the best when it comes to combat magic. Spellwise, perhaps, but not in actual fighting, Moody excepted. Besides, they all have jobs and tasks they have to perform, so they'd be limited to what, hour-long visits every day?" I gave Dumbledore a questioning glance, and he nodded. "Right. So you need someone who has all the free time in the world, knows how to fight, and fight dirty, is fast, strong, and has a shit-ton of experience in fighting the kind of fights you're anticipating. Me."

This time there were outbursts – from McGonagall, and Snape, who'd finally rejoined us – but not from Rose, who was watching me thoughtfully, or Dumbledore, who was nodding slowly.

"The benefits," I went on, raising my voice over the two professors, "are that I can make it a full-time occupation, I've done it before, and I will have no problems with blending in. You can always get someone – a professor, say – to drop in to help her with her magic, but I can make sure she practises it daily on a structured regimen. Also," I glanced apologetically at Rose, "I can make sure she eats proper meals, ones that specifically will aim at dealing with her, well…malnutrition."

"I'm not malnourished!" Rose interrupted indignantly, glaring at me. I took a deep breath and patted her hand.

"You are malnourished, Rose. Not starved or going skeletal, yes, but…you never eat well at the Dursleys, and here you – correct me if I'm wrong – don't eat that regularly either. You are malnourished to an extent, and that's why you're shorter and smaller than average for your age. There may be genetics involved, but the main cause is your food and lack of exercise."

Before Rose could say anything else, the Headmaster chipped in.

"You make some very good points, Mr Lake, and I think…" he paused for a second, holding my gaze, and I felt a distinctly odd feeling, as if someone was walking over my grave. He was using Legilimency on me, I realised. Ordinarily I would be very annoyed at that – and I was now, as well – but if it helped him come to a decision, then I'd submit to it. And learn Occlumency as soon as possible.

"I think," Dumbledore carried on, looking away, "that I will follow your advice, and take you up on your offer, Mr Lake. I will make the arrangements with the Ministry tomorrow. Is there anything you will need?" he asked, flicking his wand and conjuring a sheet of parchment and a quill that balanced on its tip, ready to write.

"Wait a minute," Rose interrupted, looking annoyed. "Don't I get a say in anything?"

Snape began to say something about how she should be thankful she was even allowed in the room, but I half-raised my pistol meaningfully and he shut up.

"Of course you do, Rose," I said, patting her hand. "And I'm sorry I didn't give you the chance yet." I leant back on the sofa, giving her a 'go-ahead' look.

She bit her lip for a second, then turned to Dumbledore. "I agree with Edward's plan, but if I get magical training over the summer I want it not to be Professor Snape, no matter what you say about him. And I want to be able to communicate with my friends, and even meet them if I want."

"Very well," Dumbledore agreed, smiling a little sadly at her. "Is there anything else you'd like?"

She shook her head. "No, that's all."

"Maybe not," I said. "I think she should also be allowed to go to Diagon Alley – if necessary, and if it's needed accompanied by a discreet escort. Maybe under a glamour. She definitely needs to be there for Lord Black's will reading, for instance."

The Headmaster nodded. "Yes, I agree. Now…Mr Lake, will you require anything if you do this?"

I thought for a second. "Yes," I answered. "I'll need a full set of identification documents – passport, driving license, birth certificate, firearm license for each of my guns, that sort of thing – from the Muggle authorities, and their records…backdated to make it seem as if I've always been in the UK. I will also need some money, and somewhere to stay. If where I'm staying is any distance away from the Dursleys, I'm going to need transport to get there. I'd prefer a motorbike, but you'll probably figure out something magical."

"Probably," Dumbledore agreed, his eyes glittering a little. "Anything else?"

"Yes, though this is a different request. Can you do something – cast a charm, something like that, to find out whether I have magic or not? I ask because," I said, "in my old world, I was definitely not magical. Now, I'm sitting in Hogwarts, which I shouldn't even be able to get near let alone see, if I was non-magical. I'm guessing it's a side-effect of the portal, but who knows. So…is there anything you can do?"

The silver-haired wizard linked his fingers and gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling for a minute. "There are no charms or spells that reveal magical ability or the level of magical power, though authors of fiction are fond of such. However…" he flicked his wand again, and a dirty, shabby, torn hat floated across the room and deposited itself on my lap. "If you have magic, then the Sorting Hat may well be able to let us know whether you are a wizard or a squib, by simply Sorting you. If it Sorts you, you are a wizard. If not, you're a squib."

I gazed at the Hat for a moment. It seemed a bit like a cop-out, but then again, it made sense. I shrugged and pulled the Hat on.

"Well, hello there," a voice whispered in my ear. "Now this I've never seen before. Never, in all my years. You're right, by the way, the portal gave you magic. Not intentionally, it has no intent to speak of, but it was a by-product of the travel. Now then…where to sort you. You'd fit into Ravenclaw, but…not quite, you don't learn for learning's sake, it's all ulterior motives with you. Hufflepuff is out, I don't think a Hufflepuff would have been able to kill their sister if she got bitten…and you're not quite a Slytherin either, although you have some cunning and you, as you say, fight dirty. Gryffindor's not quite right either, you lack the 'charge blindly into danger' sense – or do you? I wonder what most people would call jumping into a tear in space-time…hmmm…difficult. I think, overall, you'd fit best in…GRYFFINDOR!" The Hat shouted that last word, and I pulled it off my head incredulously.

"Really?" I asked it. "Gryffindor? All that red and gold will give me a headache."

Rose giggled beside me, and Dumbledore coughed lightly. "Well, congratulations are in order then, Mr Lake."

I looked up at him. "I…guess so," I replied. "So what does that mean? I'm a wizard then, but…I know no magic."

"That can be remedied," the Headmaster said. "Over the summer, when Rose has her lessons with…probably Professor Flitwick…I shall arrange for you to have lessons as well, in what would essentially be a crash course in combat magic. Come the school year, you will also travel to Hogwarts as our…fitness instructor, most probably, and continue your lessons and training of Rose here. If that is acceptable to you, of course."

I considered it for a moment. On the one hand, it meant I'd be stuck in the magical world. But on the other hand, I'd be stuck in the magical world.

"Sure," I said. "That's more than fine."

"Very well," Dumbledore said, standing, and everyone followed suit. "It is very late, and we all have a lot to think about. I would recommend everyone to head to bed. Mr Lake, I believe the Room of Requirement may be useful to you tonight. Tomorrow we will begin our planning and preparations." He came round his desk and proffered a hand. "I hope that this may be the start of a good friendship between us, Mr Lake."

I shook his hand. "So do I, Headmaster. So do I."

* * *

**So...what did you guys think? Give me some feedback, mmkay?**

**(And in case anyone is wondering, Ed's world is basically the Last Of Us world, just time-shifted a tiny bit.)**

**(Also, no, I am not going to make muggle weaponry overpowered. Next chapter I'll explain my theory.)**


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